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At first my brother proposed that we get a house together. Our pooled resources, he figured, could obtain more than the sum of our financial parts. There are times for diplomacy. And there are times for telling your brother, “never, ever, ever, ever, not in my lifetime.”

He is in the market for a house and has decided that I am, as well. He sends me listings, which I ignore, inquiring about my progress every time I see him.

Sure, I’d love to own a home. But I just bought season four of Mission: Impossible. So you can see that my time and assets are tied up.

Realtor Jodi Gilmour is the antithesis of the hard sell. When she comes over for dinner, we talk houses for three hours. She never gives me her card.

In addition to finding houses for her clients, she hosts For Rent, an apartment hunting and makeover show on HGTV. Instead of the regular 10-minute walk-through of a property, she’ll spend three hours with a couple, doing multiple takes of each scene.

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She is also four months pregnant. Not that it slows her down. The first time mom-to-be is still wearing heels. And after devouring a bowl of gnocchi and ricotta, I can’t stop her from washing dishes in between courses.

She’s not even picky about her diet. When I expect that she won’t eat shellfish, dairy or raw meats, she says she’ll take it all — though she stresses that she prefers smaller fish. My fishmonger helps me out with vibrant filets of rainbow trout (and I learn the lesson that, if you say you’ll be back in 10 minutes, he does a more thorough job of cleaning the fish). Some kale under the trout satisfies Gilmour’s appetite for leafy greens.

As I have done zilch about home searching, I want to know how I can prepare myself. Watching her show, what strikes me is how delusional the clients seem about their wish lists. They want newly renovated apartments, with all amenities, for the price of an undergrad’s basement hovel. Buy or rent, every client starts off totally unrealistic, she confirms. They reach beyond their neighbourhood price ranges, thinking they understand the market from obsessing over MLS, the Multiple Listing Service website.

More in the tone of counsellor than sales person, she says that it’s part of her job to hear those lists and then guide clients back to pragmatism.

Once buyers return to reality, they’re in for the worst part.

“Like presenting an offer in a bidding war that you know is absolutely useless,” she says, a little sad for each dashed hope and wasted bit of paperwork. “Today’s first-time buyers have to go through one bidding war.”

That seems fair, like how we have to have our heart broken at least once before we’re ready for a real relationship. But I don’t like the idea that I’m queuing up for this drama.

“It breaks your heart to know that you’re about to break these clients’ hearts.”

As Gilmour slices fruit for a dessert platter that she’s brought, she warns against one MLS trick — the stretched-out photo.

“I think the one killer on MLS these days is the photos. They can either make or break a property.” The website displays every photo horizontal by default. So if you upload a vertical shot, it will automatically stretch it out sideways, making the room appear wider than it is.

“I would never do that because I’m a little bit more ethical than that. But lots of agents do it on purpose.”

MLS was built and is maintained by the Canadian Real Estate Association, which is under pressure from the Competition Bureau to allow private sellers to advertise on the site, without agent representation.

Gilmour is not happy about this.

“We own the site. We built it. It’s ours. Sorry that it’s the best,” she says, more proud than defensive.

It is pretty good, and addictive. Even friends who are not in the market talk about late night MLS searches as if it were crack or porn.

In a no-pressure tone, she urges me to get pre-approved for a mortgage before rates skyrocket in June.

Fine. I’ll contact a mortgage broker right after this next episode of Mission: Impossible. Plot twist: it’s a two-part episode . . .

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